


Déjà Vu

by flumpazoid



Category: Almost Human, Common Law
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flumpazoid/pseuds/flumpazoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murder in 2048.  A series of murders forty years earlier.  John and Dorian need to solve the case before the killer strikes again, and they're going to need help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with a body.  
  
That's the job, it usually starts with a body. On good days, the body's holding onto life by a thread, and there's hope that maybe the murder is merely attempted and nothing more. But there's a body of a young woman, face down in a dumpster with her dress hitched up around her waist, panties missing, and well...  
  
It isn't a good day.  
  
***  
  
Dorian's staring at the body and those blue lights are flickering beneath his synthetic skin. _Disco Face_ , John thinks, and he wonders when he got used to that being normal. When he got used to having a robot. Android.  
  
Partner.  
  
Dorian's eyes shift from the woman's body to look at John, and John thinks _one of those eyeballs was in my coffee_. That thought fills him with a weird sort of affection and he wonders when he lost his mind.  
  
Dorian's frowning. "No ID," he says.  
  
John looks at the body, the dumpster, the alleyway. "Think she got past the Wall?"  
  
"It's definitely a possibility." Dorian picks up the woman's right hand. "John, her nails have been ripped out."  
  
A CSI walks up to them with a capped test tube. "Detective Kennex, we have some preliminary DNA."  
  
"Give it to him," he says with a nod at Dorian. Dorian takes the tube and a syringe, injects the liquid into his neck and John resists the urge to flinch. Those lights flicker again and blue eyes become unfocussed for the briefest second.  
  
"No matches in the database."  
  
It isn't a good day.  
  
***  
  
They're making their way to Captain Maldonado's office when Valerie intercepts them. "Heard you've got a Jane Doe," she says.  
  
"Yeah, you got something for me? I mean, for the case. For me." John manfully ignores Dorian's smirk. Valerie doesn't, and even though he's sure she's laughing at him, he can't help the warm feeling that spreads through him when she smiles.  
  
"I might have something for you. It's weird, though." They follow her to one of the screens and she brings up an image.  
  
John stares at it. "Haven't people heard of high def?"  
  
"This photo's from 2007. I just scanned it in so we have a digital copy."  
  
Dorian reaches out, fingers hovering over the body. "This woman's been dead for 41 years."  
  
"Her name was Sophie Anderson. She was from Louisville, Kentucky. Came to Hollywood, you know how it goes."  
  
"Hey, Disco Face. Knock it off."  
  
"Sorry John, I was just accessing what data I could to help us solve this case. You do want to solve the case, don't you?"  
  
Dorian raises an eyebrow.  
  
Valerie raises an eyebrow.  
  
John sighs.  
  
"Fine. I'm sorry. What have you got?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I've got nothing. The database doesn't go back 41 years."  
  
"Look, I told you guys this was weird, but the nails being ripped out? I recognised the MO."  
  
"How do you recognise the MO? You weren't even alive."  
  
Valerie nods in acknowledgement. "My mom told me about it. She was part of the manhunt for this guy." She brings up an old, grainy mugshot. "Richard Johnson. Better known as the Gentleman Caller Serial Killer. He was convicted in 2007 for the rape and murder of seven women, including Sophie Anderson."  
  
Dorian's got the Disco Face again, but John holds his tongue.  
  
"He died in Folsom last year.  Detective Stahl, even if he wasn't dead, Richard Johnson was 83 years old."  
  
"I know, Dorian. I'm not saying he's your guy, I'm just saying your killer has the same MO." She swipes the old pictures off the screen, leaving the Jane Doe lying in the dumpster.  
  
"Thanks, Valerie, that really helps," John says, even if he's not sure that it's true.  
  
"I've also sent you the contact details for the detectives who caught him. They're retired, but they're still in LA. It's probably worth talking to them."  
  
"Yeah, let's hit up a couple of geriatric ex-cops and see if they can remember what they had for breakfast, then ask them about forty years ago."  
  
"I told you to use olive oil on that leg of yours, John," Dorian chides. "He gets crabby when the joint starts creaking."  
  
"I used olive oil on it this morning! And I do not get crabby, whatever the hell that means."  
  
They're interrupted by a whistle. "Now there's a five dollar hooker if I ever saw one," Richard yells across the bullpen.  
  
Instead of the irritation she usually displays at his behaviour, Valerie looks thoughtful.  
  
"The victims of the Gentleman Caller Serial Killer were all prostitutes. I'll keep looking for an ID for your Jane Doe."  
  
Before he can thank her, Maldonado's yelling at the him and Dorian to get in her office.  
  
***  
  
"So you're saying your suspect's an 83 year old who died in a maximum security prison."  
  
"No, Ma'am, I'm not saying that. Well, not exactly. I'm saying it's the same MO."  
  
"Detective Stahl is also working on identifying the victim," Dorian says before the Captain can look even more sceptical.  
  
"Fine. Anything else?"  
  
"Yes, actually. We're going to speak to the detectives who caught Johnson back in 2007." John glances at his palm and sees the message there. "Wesley Mitchell and Travis Marks?"  
  
A look of unholy glee crosses the good Captain's face. It's gone in a split second, but John knows what he saw.  
  
"You should go do that. Both of you. I think that would be very useful."  
  
John looks at Dorian.  
  
Dorian just shrugs.  
  
***

"Whatever you're selling, we're not buying!" a voice yells from somewhere behind the door.  
  
John sighs. "LAPD!" He yells back. "We're looking for Wesley Mitchell and Travis Marks!"  
  
"If you have an MX, you leave that thing in your car, you hear me?" There's a shuffling sound, then the door opens. An old man with keen blue eyes and blond-grey hair stands in the doorway. "What do you wa..." His voice trails off as he sees them. More specifically, as he sees Dorian. A grin spreads across his face and it knocks twenty years off him.  
  
"Baby, who is it?" a voice calls from inside the house. Another man appears at the door and... no. No. This can't be happening.  
  
"Look, Travis!" the first man says to the second. "167's come home for a visit."  
  
"Dorian," John grits out. "Not 167. His name is Dorian."  
  
There's something in those old men's eyes that looks like approval.  
  
John knows better than to look at Dorian. He's not in the mood for _feelings_.  
  
***  
  
"Here." The man who turns out to be Wes Mitchell thrusts a plate of warm cookies at John and Dorian. The man who turns out to be Travis Marks, the man who looks like Dorian in forty years' time (if Dorian were to ever age, but he won't because he is a DRN and John will grow old and die but Dorian is young forever)... Travis steals one of the giant cookies from the plate and shoves the entire thing in his mouth.  
  
"You'll have to excuse him, he's still not housebroken. I've given up," Wes sighs.  
  
"They're good," Travis says, mouth full and spraying crumbs. "Wes makes the best cookies."  
  
"I'm going to throw you over the Wall."  
  
"Aww, come on baby, don't be like that. Your skinny little arms couldn't pick me up."  
  
"I will build a trebuchet and LAUNCH you over the Wall."  
  
Dorian is staring between them in rapt fascination. "Do you know Dr Vaughan?"  
  
Travis grins. "Nigel? Yeah, of course we know him, he still comes round for dinner sometimes."  
  
"Who's Dr Vaughan?" John asks helplessly.  
  
"He's my creator. Well, I thought he was my creator, before." Dorian looks at Travis and Wes with confusion.  
  
"He is, technically. But I like to think that we helped make you and your brothers, too," Wes says gently.  
  
"I would like to ask you more about where I came from, but we came here today because of a murder."  
  
"Aww c'mon man, I haven't even killed him yet. At least let me have the satisfaction before you lock me up."  
  
"I don't think they're on the Cassandra Project, Travis. And besides, if anyone's killing anyone, it'll be me killing you."  
  
"You love me."  
  
Wes glares at Travis.  
  
Travis grins charmingly.  
  
Wes glares some more  
  
"So..." Travis turns to John and Dorian. "You were saying something about a murder?"  
  
***


	2. Chapter 2

"So, what do you think?" John asks as the two retired detectives study the evidence.  
  
"It could be a copycat," Travis says doubtfully.  
  
Wes shakes his head. "The details about the fingernails were never released to the press. If it is a copycat, it'd have to be someone who knew about that."  
  
"Detective Stahl knew."  
  
"Yes, Travis, she's obviously the killer." Wes snaps irritably. He pauses and collects himself. "I know what you're saying. I do. So that means anyone connected with any of the officers on that manhunt, anyone who worked in that courtroom and anyone who vaguely knows a member of the jury is a suspect?"  
  
"Right now all the information we have from the killer's DNA is that he's a white male. So anything the two of you can give us will help."  
  
"Thanks, Detective Kennex. Don't mind Wes, he's just... being Wes."  
  
"Whether it's a copycat or not, you know he's going to kill again."  
  
"I know, baby. And that's why we need to think. Think about anything that might help. Remember how me met? All we knew was that those working girls were missing. There were no bodies, which meant no investigation."  
  
"But all those girls had gone to meet a repeat client. He called himself Mr Tripper," Wes says to John and Dorian. "He wasn't exactly being subtle."  
  
"I don't get it. If he wanted to be Jack The Ripper, why did they call him the Gentleman Caller?"  
  
"He used to call this reporter at the Los Angeles Times - what was her name, Wes?"  
  
"Andrea Stone."  
  
"Right, but she wasn't a _reporter_ reporter - she didn't cover the news, she wrote for one of those bits that falls out of the weekend paper-"  
  
"She wrote for the Culture section."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I said. So he'd call her and explain in detail, I'm talking _detail_ , what those girls' screams sounded like as he tortured them. Usually you get a call like that, you call the cops, right? But not this woman. She thought it was performance art."  
  
John stares at Travis. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Don't even start, brother. Do not even go there. It was only once we started finding bodies that she came forward."  
  
"Hey, maybe someone's been calling the Los Angeles Times! If this is a copycat, I mean." Wes is met with three identical pitying expressions. "What?"  
  
Travis sighs. "Sometimes it's like you missed the last forty years, man."  
  
"I'm accessing all communications to the Los Angeles Times." The lights play under Dorian's skin, and John watches Travis and Wes stare.  
  
"It can't be the first time you've seen this," he says.  
  
"It's not," Wes says, gaze shifting to John. "Just because you've seen something before doesn't make it less amazing."  
  
There are a thousand questions on the tip of John's tongue. _What were you thinking? Why does Dorian have your partner's face? Did you know he was on the scrapheap? Do you know what you've done?_  
  
"I've found something from two days ago." Dorian's right eye becomes a pinpoint of light. He turns and a black screen projects onto the wall.  
  
"Andrea?" a man's voice asks. "Are you there? You'd have loved this one, darling. She sang so beautifully for me. And the way she twisted under my hands..." A ray of pink light appears at the edge of the screen. "Andrea, it's not the same when you don't talk to me. Talk to me. Please."  
  
The image disappears.  
  
Wes and Travis are looking at each other, and there's a silent conversation taking place between them.  
  
"He sounds the same," Travis says, finally.  
  
"The voice is different," Wes adds. "But the way he talks, it sounds the same."  
  
"And he's asking for Andrea, that can't be a coincidence. What was going on with the picture?"  
  
"It appears that the man was using a finger to cover the lens," Dorian says.  
  
"Great, our killer's a dumbass who can't figure out how to turn facecalls off," John snaps.  
  
"Or he's someone who's not familiar with the technology." Dorian nods at John's incredulous look. "Think about it for a second. Richard Johnson was 83. He'd been in jail for 41 years. The world today, it would be alien to him."  
  
"Yes Dorian, did you miss the part where he's dead? Or if he faked his death, he'd still be geriatric? Uh, no offense," John adds, realising the company they're in.  
  
Wes gives John one of the looks he usually reserves for Travis when he's done something exceptionally stupid. "You live in a world of DNA bombs and flash masks and Recollectionists. You see the impossible all the time, and you can't think of something that might explain what's going on here?"  
  
John sighs. "We're going to need Rudy."  
  
"Guys?" Dorian says. "There's something you need to know. That message to the Los Angeles Times wasn't the only one from the killer. He's left one just now."  
  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter, more will be coming soon. There'll even be a bit of action!


	3. Chapter 3

Blue and red lights flash as the car's siren blares. 50, 60, 70 miles per hour. John grips the steering wheel as he steps on the gas. "You sure that's the location?"  
  
"Yes John." Dorian sounds patient, but John can hear the underlying exasperation.  
  
"What if he's masked his location or used a proxy?"  
  
"You're talking about a guy who used a finger to cover his camera lens."  
  
"Good point. They still with us?"  
  
Dorian's gaze flicks to the car's side mirror. A sleek black Chrysler is sitting comfortably on their tail. "Yes. Do you think it's a good idea that they're coming?"  
  
"It's not like we can stop them - unless we arrest them for speeding."   
  
"John." There's a note of urgency in Dorian's voice. "The transmission's just ended."  
  
70, 80, 90 miles per hour.  
  
***  
  
The body's still warm.  
  
John can't think about that right now. There'll be regret and self-recrimination later, but right now that bastard might be nearby and John is going to get him.   
  
Dorian looks out over the canyon.  
  
"See anything?"  
  
"I'm scanning for heat signatures. He couldn't have gone far."  
  
Wes picks his way through the scrub towards them. "Right now the evidence is at best circumstantial, flimsy, and would get you laughed out of court, but I really do think this is Richard Johnson's work."  
  
"You too, huh?" Travis calls over, still looking at the body.  
  
"Remember how one of the bodies was found here last time around?"  
  
"Yeah, by that dog walker." Travis turns to John. "This isn't a copycat, it's the same guy. I can't even explain how I know that, but I agree with Wes." He makes a face. "I hate it when that happens."  
  
Dorian's head snaps up. "Got something," he says, sprinting away at superhuman speed. Wes starts scrambling back towards the road.  
  
"Where are you going?" Travis yells.  
  
"If you think you can keep up with him, fine! But I'm getting the car."  
  
Travis runs after Wes.  
  
John runs after Dorian.  
  
***  
  
John can see him in the distance, his arms clamped around a man who's struggling to get away.  
  
 _Gotcha, you bastard_ , he thinks.  
  
It takes a second to see the black van speeding towards them. Another second to see the shiny silver object that arcs through the air and embeds itself in Dorian's back.  
  
"Dorian!" he yells.   
  
Dorian falls.  
  
***  
  
Dorian's back is a mess, broken open magenta lavender purple it's all fucking purple and when John turns him over (gently, ever so gently because no matter what he says, John would never ever do anything to hurt him), he looks into his eyes and all he sees is sightless black.  
  
Later he'll remember the men who grabbed their suspect and drove off with him.  
  
Later he'll remember which one of them detonated the flashbomb.  
  
Later he'll remember the two retired detectives who got him and Dorian into the car and back to the precinct.  
  
But right now, all he can think is _he's dead_ and _I failed him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another short chapter. More to come soon, including Rudy being brilliant.


	4. Chapter 4

"One of the many astounding aspects of the DRN range is their sheer durability," Rudy says.  Dorian's body is on the table, lying on its side.  Those black eyes are staring at John while Rudy carefully inspects Dorian's back.  
  
"He wasn't durable enough for a flashbomb, though, was he," John says bitterly.  
  
"Well, he will need a great deal of care to get him back up and about, but it's nothing I can't handle."  
  
"You mean... he's not dead?"  
  
"Why on Earth would you think he's dead?"  Rudy pauses.  "What do you think I'm doing?  Do you think I'm the kind of person who would poke around a dead DRN's back?"  
  
"I... uh.  No?"  
  
Rudy stares at him.  
  
"His eyes have gone black, what am I supposed to think?"  
  
Rudy follows John's line of sight.  "Ah," he says gently.  "Would you like me to close them?"  
  
"No!"  Because closing someone's eyes is something you do when they're dead, and Dorian's not dead.  Dorian's not dead and they'll have a tomorrow and John will eat all the live bugs on the menu in Koln Avenue if it gets him a second chance.  "It's just... the only time I saw his eyes like this was before I- before he was activated."  
  
"Before you woke him up, yes.  Don't worry, this is perfectly fine.  Dorian shut himself down to avoid the power surge that would accompany the blast.  It was the smart thing to do.  If he'd been awake for that, he would have been irreparably damaged - and he would have lost the evidence he recorded."  
  
John knows he should ask to see the evidence.  A good cop would ask to see the evidence, but John's not a good cop today.  Not when his partner's lying so still on that table.  
  
"You're definitely going to heal him?"  
  
Rudy gives him this look that he can't decipher.  "Don't worry, you'll get your partner back."  He grins.  "And I'll get my roommate back!"  
  
 _Second chances_ , John thinks.  What he actually says is "If you tell anyone about this conversation-"  
  
Luckily for both of them, Wes chooses that moment to enter the lab.    
  
"Detective Mitchell!" Rudy cries.  He's not ashamed to use an old man as a human shield if he has to.  "So nice to see you again.  That is, we've met before."  
  
"At the New York Expo, I remember.  It's good to see you again, Dr Lom.  How's the patient?"  
  
"Well, we have minor circuitry and synapse damage as a result of the back plate shattering, in conjunction with the fragments of the flashbomb.  The more pressing issue is the trimidium damage in the spinal column, but as I was telling Detective Kennex, it's nothing that I can't fix."  
  
"No damage from the power surge?"  
  
"No, Dorian had shut himself down so he was inert during the explosion."  
  
"Good boy," Wes murmurs as he stares at Dorian's face.  
  
"I should have him up and about within 48 hours.  In the meantime, I'll extract the evidence he recorded and send it over.  I understand you've got a killer to catch."  
  
***  
  
Richard looks over as Valerie opens the passenger door.  
  
"You were right," she says.  "How did you know?"  
  
"I spent ten years in Vice squad.  The tech might change, but the story stays the same.  How did you get on in there?"  
  
Valerie pulls a tablet from behind the sun visor and brings up a diagnostic screen.  "All devices are fully functional.  Whatever they do in there, we'll know about it."  
  
"Good job, Detective," he says sincerely.  "Are you ok?"  
  
She closes her eyes briefly and shakes her head.  "Those girls..."  
  
"Listen, Valerie.  We will nail those bastards.  We will get them and we will convict them."  He taps at the tablet.  "There's evidence coming through right now.  Captain approves a raid, we can get this done tonight."  
  
"What'll happen to the girls?"  
  
"If we can get them to turn state's evidence, they won't get sent back over the Wall.  They'll get a drug rehab program and a chance at a better life."  
  
"A chance?  That's it?"  
  
Richard shrugs.  "That's all most of us get, if we're lucky.  Hey," he says at her downcast look.  "Don't underestimate how strong people can be.  Those girls have survived this long, imagine what they can do if they get that chance."  
  
Valerie looks at him in disbelief.  "Who are you and what have you done with Richard Paul?"  
  
"Fuck you," he grumbles as he starts the car.  
  
***  
  
Travis runs his fingers over the screen.  He loves the screen.  And the screen loves him right back.  
  
"Do you wish for enlargement?" she asks in a sultry voice.  
  
"Sweetheart, you don't know the half of it."  He strokes her tenderly.  "Hit me up."  
  
He knows people are staring.  He doesn't know if it's because he looks like he could be Dorian's father (and word travels fast, it always does in the bullpen), or if it's because he's a crazy old man flirting with the screen.  He doesn't particularly care.  
  
"Oh, that's beautiful," he sighs.  A crystal clear image of their suspect's face is in front of him.  "Do you know who he is?"  
  
"Accessing facial recognition database," she purrs.  
  
"That's a good girl."  
  
"No matches in the database," she says sadly.  
  
"So this guy doesn't have a criminal record?"  
  
"Negative, Detective Marks retired.  Additionally, this face does not match that of any registered human."  
  
"So he's either here illegally or he just... doesn't exist?"  
  
"Affirmative, Detective Marks retired."  
  
"And his DNA had no matches in the database.  Ok," he sighs.  "How about you show me something else?"  
  
"What would you like to see, Detective Marks retired?"  She wants him, he knows she does.  
  
""How about we look at those two perps from the van, sweetheart?"  
  
"Accessing video evidence from DRN-0167 'Dorian'."  
  
A young man approaches him timidly.  "Excuse me, sir," he stutters.  "Are - are you human?"  
  
Travis gives him a once over.  "Son, are you a detective?"  
  
"Yessir, I made detective two months ago."  
  
"And you can't tell whether I'm human or not?"  
  
"Er, that is, well, um..."  
  
Travis decides to take pity.  "Kid?"  
  
"Yessir?"  
  
"Go back to your workstation."  
  
The young man flees.  
  
He turns back to the screen.  "Sorry sweetheart.  Where were we?"  
  
"Clarifying images from DRN-0167 'Dorian' for the purposes of facial recognition," she teases.  
  
"I love you," he says fervently.  
  
"Should I leave you two alone?" a voice says behind him, sweet like poisoned honey.  
  
"Hello Detective Mitchell retired, how may I help you?"  
  
Wes sighs.  "Carry on with what you were doing," he tells the screen.  
  
"I was just reviewing the evidence, baby.  Don't tell me you're jealous."  Travis sees the vein throbbing at Wes's temple.  "You're jealous?  Of a screen?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Oh my God," Travis says gleefully.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"Identification complete," she says as one of the faces appears before them.  "Timothy Nelson, date of birth March 15th 2026.  Previous conviction for assault and battery in 2046.  Employment status - unemployed."  
  
"Ok swee- uh.  How about the other one?"  
  
The second face appears next to the first.  "Rylan Nelson, date of birth May 6th 2020.  Previous conviction for kidnapping in 2042.  Employment status - unemployed."  
  
"Brothers?" Wes asks, looking at the two faces.  
  
"Affirmative, Detective Mitchell retired."  
  
"Can you bring up details of any other family members?"  
  
"Accessing database."  
  
"So, 48 hours, huh?  Dr Lom must be a magician."  
  
"Or a genius with a particular gift for the practical application of his engineering skills."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I said.  How was he looking?"  
  
"Not good, but if Dr Lom says he can heal him, he can heal him."  
  
"I was talking about Detective Kennex."  
  
"Yeah, he wasn't looking so hot either."  
  
"I mean, should we be worried?  Is he going to go crazy and start shooting people?  He seems like the type."  
  
"Travis!"  
  
"Come on man, you know it's true."

Wes ignores the comment.  "Did we get an ID for the victim?"

Travis shakes his head.  "Jane Doe."  
  
"Data search has yielded one result," the screen says, as another face appears.  "Raymond Nelson, date of birth September 23rd 2023.  No criminal record.  Employment status - employed."  
  
"Where does he work?" Travis asks.  
  
"Raymond Nelson has been employed by McCabe Medical since 5th August 2045."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Raymond Nelson is employed in the Blue Sky research division of McCabe Medical.  There are no details of his research available."  
  
"Nothing at all?"  
  
"The research Raymond Nelson is assigned to has been named internally within the Blue Sky research division as Project Rebirth."  
  
Wes and Travis look at each other.  
  
"Rebirth, huh?"  
  
"We need to find Kennex."  
  
***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen the previews for episode 9 yet, so apologies for anything that clashes hideously with the new canon.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello Rudy."  
  
Rudy shrieks and drops his scanner.  
  
"Dorian!  What are you doing?  You aren't supposed to be awake!"  
  
"Why not?  You fixed me up real good, man.  All systems are online and functioning, flexibility..." Dorian cracks his back "is at 98%.  I'm good to go."  
  
"Dorian, there's still shrapnel in your system that I need to track and possibly extract, there is a whole host of diagnostic testing I have to complete, and your charge isn't holding, I really cannot recommend... no, please don't get up, leaving now is a very bad idea, you are not fit for duty-"  
  
Dorian grips his shoulders and looks into his eyes.  "Thank you, Rudy.  I have to go find John."  
  
"No, Dorian, don't... You're welcome!" he calls helplessly to the now empty room.  
  
***  
  
Dorian finds John, along with Wes and Travis, in Captain Maldonado's office.  
  
"Dorian!  It's good to see you up and about," she says.  "I thought Rudy said he'd need 48 hours?"  
  
"Thanks Captain - it turns out the damage was more easily reparable than Rudy thought initially."  
  
The Captain looks at him dubiously, but lets it slide.  Wes and Travis look pleased to see him, and John... John's just staring at him with an unrecognisable expression on his face.  Dorian thought he had catalogued all John's facial expressions.  He searches his memory banks again and comes up empty.  _Perhaps it's the shrapnel_ , he thinks.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Travis asks.  
  
"I feel well, thank you Detective Marks.  I'm ready to get back to work."  
  
"That's good, because thanks to you, we've got a lead."  Captain Maldonado brings up an image of Raymond Nelson.  "We think our suspect was kidnapped by an employee of McCabe Medical."  
  
"Why does McCabe Medical sound so familiar?" Wes wonders.  
  
"Yeah, it's been bugging me too," Travis agrees.  
  
"Sandra, would you mind bringing up anything you've got on them, please?"  
  
"Of course, Wes."  A picture appears of a man in his fifties.  
  
"That guy!  That's the running-out-of-time guy."  
  
"Who?" John asks.  
  
"We keep getting these commercials," Wes explains.  "This man's Dr Richard McCabe, and he's looking for test subjects for his new technology."  
  
"New technology?"  
  
"He claims he can transfer a human's consciousness - their soul, if you will - from the person's current body to a new, younger one.  Or Project Rebirth, as they seem to be calling it."  
  
"So you're getting targeted advertising because you're both..." John trails off as Dorian raises an eyebrow and the Captain hides a smile.  
  
"The point I am making, Detective Kennex, is that maybe McCabe Medical isn't getting the volunteers they need from the general population - after all, the process has a high risk and if it goes wrong, you're dead."  
  
"So they're getting test subjects from places like Folsom, because God knows we need more rapists and murderers on the loose."  
  
"Possibly."  
  
"Why don't we pay them a visit?" Travis suggests.  "Maybe we're interested in being volunteers.  Besides, this guy's got hair like Donald Trump, I wanna see if it comes off."  
  
"Who's Donald Trump?" John asks.  
  
"Nobody," Wes says.  
  
"I'll get uniforms to pick up Timothy and Rylan Nelson."  John opens his mouth.  "No, John.  You're not getting involved in this.  You can go talk to Raymond Nelson, see if you can find Richard Johnson's whereabouts."  
  
"But-"  
  
"I'm sorry if I didn't make myself clear.  That was an order."  
  
***  
  
"It's just that we've had, what, forty years together, right, baby?"  
  
"Forty one years, three months and seventeen days."  
  
"But it's not enough, we need more time.  And with Wesley's diagnosis..."  Travis's lower lip goes into a full on wobble.  "I can't lose him!" he wails.  
  
Wes's coughing fit sounds suspiciously like laughter.  "There there," he comforts, petting Travis's shoulder.  Squeezing Travis's neck, perhaps a little tight.  "Would you mind showing us what we'd be signing up for, please?"  
  
"Of course, gentlemen.  I'd be happy to give you a full tour of our facility, please follow me."  
  
"Ooh, would we get to meet Dr McCabe?"  
  
"I'm sure he'd be very happy to meet you both."  
  
John waits until Wes and Travis have gone.  He's about to move when Dorian grabs his arm.  
  
"There's something I have to tell you," he says, and from the look on his face John knows he isn't going to like it.  
  
"I'm not holding my charge."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"I'm sorry, John."  
  
"And Rudy let you out like that?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"So he didn't clear you for duty?"  
  
"Look, I couldn't let you go out alone, ok?"  
  
John takes a deep breath.  _Second chances_ , he remembers.  "Ok, here's what we're gonna do.  We're gonna find Raymond Nelson.  We're gonna bring him in.  You're gonna act normal the whole time.  We're gonna get you to a charging station.  Sound like a plan?"  
  
Dorian nods.  "Good plan."  
  
***  
  
The plan goes to hell the moment John asks the receptionist for Raymond Nelson and she hits the panic alarm.  
  
"LAPD!" John yells, but the security guards swarming don't seem to care.  
  
"I think now's a good time to run," Dorian says.  
  
***  
  
"What's that?" Wes asks their tour guide.  "Is that an alarm?"  
  
"Oh, don't worry, it's just routine maintenance," she says with a false laugh.  
  
"I'm not sure about this, pumpkin," Wes tells Travis.  
  
"I know what you mean, baby.  It's not very reassuring."  
  
Their guide claps her hands together.  "You wanted to see Dr McCabe?  He's available right now."  
  
***  
  
Dorian cracks the code and they stumble through the door marked 'Private'.  John fumbles in the dark for a light switch and promptly wishes that he hadn't.  
  
"What the..."  There are bodies floating in tanks as far as the eye can see.    
  
"There's no brain activity in any of them," Dorian says quietly.    
  
John shudders.  "Any idea where we need to go?"  
  
Blue sparks under Dorian's skin.  "Follow me."  
  
John doesn't mention that Dorian's left eye is flickering green.  
  
***  
  
"It's incredible what you're doing.  Truly."  
  
"I'm glad you agree, Mr Mitchell.  For so long people believed in cryogenics, but now they will finally see that this is the future."  
  
"The only thing is, if I don't sign up for this, I should have another two years with Travis.  If I do and it doesn't work..."  
  
"I'm not losing you, baby."  Travis clasps his hand earnestly.  "I'm not letting you do this unless I know I'll get you back."  
  
Dr McCabe nods in understanding.  "Nothing in life is without risk," he says.  "But I can confirm that we have just had our first successful transfer of consciousness - or rebirth, if you will."  
  
"What?  You've only had _one_?"  
  
"Calm down, Travis.  This is what research is all about, right Dr McCabe?"  
  
"That's right, Mr Mitchell.  And if we've done it once, I'm sure we can do it for you."  
  
"Would it be possible to talk to the person who underwent the procedure?"  
  
"Ah.  He is undergoing some tests at the moment."  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Oh yes, he's here.  Felicity can show you around the Beta wing afterwards."  
  
"Can you tell me about the new body I'd get?"  
  
"Of course.  We have a range of bodies available to choose from, all fully human."  
  
"Not synthetic?"  
  
"No, Mr Marks, we would never do that."  
  
"Where do the bodies come from?"  
  
"We... harvest them, if you will.  It's a very complex procedure, but don't worry.  Your new body will give you all the physical abilities you had when you were a young man."  
  
Travis turns to Wes.  "They harvest them.  That sounds perfectly fine."  
  
"Mmm hmm," Wes agrees.  "We just have one more question, Dr McCabe.  Where's Raymond Nelson?"  
  
Travis draws his gun before McCabe can hit his panic button.  "Bet you didn't expect that from an old guy, huh?" he grins.  "Put your hands up."  
  
Wes touches his ear and activates his comm link.  "Is Beta wing in your schematic?"  
  
"It is, Detective Mitchell."  
  
"That's where they're holding Johnson, I'll bet you'll find Nelson there too."  
  
"Copy that."  
  
***  
  
With every keypad, sensor and retinal scanner, John can almost see the charge bleeding out of Dorian.  
  
"You said this was the last door, right?"  
  
"It should be."  Dorian clenches his fists in frustration.  "And I can't even OPEN it!" he yells as he kicks it.  
  
John watches the lump of steel fly into the room.  "I think you just did, buddy."  
  
Dorian punches the wall for good measure.  
  
"LAPD!" John yells as they enter together.  
  
***  
  
Their suspect's lying on an operating table, his skull removed and brain exposed.   
  
"Step away from the table and put your hands behind your head.  All of you," John says quietly to the three men in labcoats.  
  
"If we do that, he'll die," one of them protests.  
  
"Raymond Nelson, nice to meet you.  You're under arrest. Step. Away."  
  
"It would be a terrible shame if he died," Dorian says mildly as he stalks around the table.  "Say, maybe I slip and my elbow lands in his brain."  
  
"Dorian..."  
  
"Hey, do you even think he's human?  Legally, I mean.  Detective Mitchell, are you there?"  
  
"Yes, Dorian - we've got backup in the building, I've just sent them your way."  
  
"In your legal opinion, would Richard Johnson as he is now be human?"  
  
"Dorian..."  
  
"Actually, would these scientists be human?  Because they look like monsters to me."  
  
"Whatever it is you're going to do, please don't.  Please, just keep calm and wait for backup."  
  
"I am tired of keeping calm.  I am tired of keeping quiet.  I am tired of being a broken toaster, or a coffee warmer, or whatever _thing_ it is that everyone thinks I am today.  I am DONE."  He raises his gun and points it at the body on the table.  "He doesn't deserve to live."  
  
"Dorian," Wes says quietly.  "Did you ever wonder why you look like Travis?"  
  
Dorian pauses.  "Yes, that was something I meant to ask you about."  
  
"When the LAPD brought me onto Synthetic Soul, they wanted detectives.  Real cops, who could make intuitive leaps and have empathy and feel human emotions and be bulletproof all at the same time.  People in the government made promises... they haven't kept them, but I'm working on that, Dorian.  I am working every day and if it's the last thing I do, I will get you the care and legal protection that you deserve.  
  
"I could tell you that you have Travis's face because he's the most gifted intuitive cop that I know.  Or that you have his face because people always open up to him pretty much instantly.  I never had people skills, but Travis, he has it down to an art.  
  
"I could tell you those things, and they would be true.  But the main reason I gave you Travis's face is that he is the most precious person in the world to me.  And so are you."  
  
"I think I'm malfunctioning," Dorian whispers.  
  
"You're not malfunctioning, you're feeling.  You were designed to feel, to be human, and you are perfect."  
  
"But I want this man dead."  
  
"Why do you want him dead?"  
  
"For what he did to those girls."  
  
"Wanting vengeance is about as human as it gets, Dorian.  There've been times when I've thought about giving a suspect the old double tap."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"I didn't.  Because even though we're human, we have to try to be better than that.  Because we uphold the law."  
  
There's a sudden commotion, officers shouting as they storm into the lab.  
  
Dorian drops his gun and shakes uncontrollably.  John holds him and rocks him and mutters words that make no sense until the shaking subsides.  
  
"Let's go see Rudy and get you some juice," he says quietly, taking him back to the car.  
  
***  
  
"What the..."  
  
"Welcome to the best little whorehouse in LA!" Richard yells.  
  
"Richard!"  Valerie reprimands, but it's fond rather than irritated and with everything else that's happened today, John's not sure whether he's in some strange alternate universe or not.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Well, we weren't sure when you were gonna get your man, but Valerie found where the girls were coming from, so we thought, let's get 'em outta harm's way before there's any more..." he makes a vague, flappy hand motion.  "So we got ourselves a nice human trafficking ring."  
  
"Kidnapping, prostitution, extortion, embezzlement, fraud, money laundering, the works.  All with evidence sewn up," she grins in satisfaction.  
  
"Wow," John nods.  "You guys have been busy."  
  
"Yeah, heard you got serial killers and mad scientists.  That's one helluva day."  
  
"It sure is."  
  
"I'm not even gonna remind you of how I was right about Richard Johnson."  
  
"Thank you Valerie for the not-reminding you just did, that was very big of you."  
  
"Anytime.  Where's your partner?"  
  
"Rudy's giving him a check-up.  I'm going to see him now."  
  
She smiles, and his heart doesn't flip like it used to.  "I'm glad he's gonna be ok."  
  
"Yeah," he says quietly.  "Me too."  
  
***  
  
"... and we've got a charging station in the basement, so you come round anytime.  Anytime at all.  Mi casa es su casa, you hear me?"  
  
"Yes, Detective Marks."  
  
"Call me Travis, kid.  Nobody calls me Detective Marks anymore."  
  
Dorian smiles, big and guileless.  "Ok, Travis.  Thank you for everything."  
  
"I'm gonna leave you with this guy," he says, jabbing a thumb in John's direction.  As he passes John in the doorway, he grabs his arm.  "You hurt him, I'll make sure they never find your body.  Understood?"  
  
John nods slowly.    
  
"Good," Travis says, satisfied.  "Pleasure working with you!" he calls as he walks out.  
  
"Yeah, you too," John murmurs.  
  
"Ah, Detective Kennex, there you are."  
  
"Rudy, how's he doing?"  
  
"I really am going to keep him for 48 hours this time, at the end of which he should be as good as new and you may have him back."  
  
"Sounds like a plan.  How are you feeling?" he asks Dorian as he pets his hair absently.  Rudy raises an eyebrow but says nothing, turning back to his worktop.  
  
"Feel a lot better now I've got some charge," Dorian grins.  
  
"That's good," he says softly.  "You get some rest, be good for Rudy, and I'll see you first thing tomorrow, ok?"  
  
"Ok, tomorrow," Dorian smiles dreamily, drifting off.  
  
Tomorrow, John thinks with a smile.  
  
***


	6. Epilogue

"He doesn't need to know," Captain Maldonado argues.  
  
Wes shakes his head.  "He'll find out.  Come on Sandra, he saw those bodies in the tanks.  At some point he will know that Insyndicate was responsible for them, and that those bodies were intended for bioterrorism.  And he will know that it was his girlfriend who made that happen."  
  
"Everything's been incinerated, including Richard Johnson's new body."  
  
"There's still a trail.  He's smart, Sandra, he'll know something's up.  It'll be a lot better if the truth comes from you than if he thinks you've been trying to hide it from him."  
  
"Fine.  But he doesn't need to know today."  
  
Wes shrugs.  "You can tell him tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! And I even managed to get it out before the new episode destroys it tomorrow night! Sorry the ending's rubbish. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments, your positive encouragement was amazing. Now I've got the monster out of my head, I've got all this amazing Almost Human and Common Law fanfic to catch up on. Happy days!


End file.
